Clementine's Battles
by ApocaIyptic
Summary: This is a series of drabbles that are a novelization of The Walking Dead game, season two. This story focuses mostly on Clementine and the battles she fought rather bravely for an eleven year old. There drabbles are not in chronological order, so please don't fault me for making the order random. Other than that, I hope you enjoy the future chapters. K for mild-moderate swearing.


Her fist was clenched, fighting the stinging pain as the ethanol burned through her wound. She grunted, her eyes smarting as she grit her teeth. She grabbed the makeshift bandage from the work-desk, ready to wrap it around her wound. But it somehow managed to slip from her fingers. Narrowing her eyes, she cursed, pushing away the dizziness to the back of her head. But as Clementine slowly, painfully reached down for the bandage, a decaying hand shot through the weakened boards against the wall, grabbing her leg.

Alarmed, she cried out, pushing herself backwards, repeatedly smashing her foot against the walker's face. It snarled, not showing any indication of weakening, and it crawled further. Panicking, Clementine realized that she couldn't free her leg. Any second would the walker have a good, clean bite. She frantically looked around for a weapon, but only found a rake within reach. Making a desperate grab for it, her fingers only pushed it away even further. The walker, gaining strength, pushed itself inside the cabin, forcing Clementine to somehow back away even further. But the walkers were clumsy, and soon it tripped over itself onto Clementine, who shrieked. With her good leg, she forced every bit of the adrenaline pumping through her veins to shove away the walker before it could sink its teeth into her. Quickly glancing back, she grabbed a brick and held it high, smashing it on the walker's head. It knocked backwards far enough to buy her precious seconds. But its angered snarls overwhelmed her.

_I've been through these situations before, _she encouraged herself, panting_. I can do this._

Clementine swiftly knelt to take the rake, roughly shoving the walker back with a grunt. Her wounded arm ached, and she could feel the injury reopening. But she had to fight back. Like Lee did.

With his name echoing in her mind, she drove the walker into the nearby anchor with a roar of stubbornness. The walker's body impaled through the sharp anchor, and it was stuck. Stuck, but still alive. She blindly grabbed the hammer on the desk, breathing heavily as she walked towards the flailing walker. Lifting the hammer, she smashed it through the walker's head, and continued to attack. Its snarls became louder with every blow, and Clementine was terrified.

Her breathing intensified into a rush of hysteria as its blood splattered over her clothes and face, but she didn't even take a halting strike until it stopped moving. With the last blow, the hammer lodged itself into the walker's head, but Clementine didn't bother pulling it out. It was dead. For sure, this time.

She panted, gripping the hammer's handle, shutting her eyes as she tried to calm herself down. But her heart was pounding in her ears.

And suddenly the shed's door opened behind her, but she didn't turn. She already knew who was there.

"...Holy _shit_." Luke breathed, at the same time a man murmured, "What the...?"

Clementine then roughly pulled out the hammer, her shoulders heaving with every breath as she turned to face them all.

"How the hell'd it get in here?" She heard someone say. And another, "Little girl's though as nails."

But she ignored them, dropping the hammer with her head knelt as she still panted, hugging her arms.

"Are you alright?"

_Are you alright,_ they asked. They trap her in a shed with a badly wounded arm, and they have the nerve to ask _if she's alright_.

Something twisted in her mind, a whirl of fear that had roared into anger. She slowly raised her head, her eyes firm and angry as she spoke the slow, clear words...

"I'm_ still_. _Not_. _Bitten_." She panted. "I never was. And you left me out here to _die_."

Luke's eyes widened as he swallowed, and behind him, the group's reactions went from astonishment to guilty. But nevertheless, Luke noticed the bite mark on her arm, stitched.

"You patched yourself up?"

"Where did you get that stuff?" Nick, who was behind him, demanded.

"Did she _steal_ from us?"

But Pete jumped to her defense. "This doesn't change a _thing_. She hasn't done anything to us."

"Says the man not carrying a baby."

"_Enough_ already!"

Looking down, Clementine spoke, mostly to interrupt the series of questions forced on her. "You left me no choice."

"You coulda just left." The woman said curtly.

"Relax, Rebecca."

In front of her, the doctor, Carlos, had been staring at Clementine in disbelief. He then regained his neutral composure, turning to walk away as he said, "Bring her in. I'll take a look at her arm." Rebecca followed him. The tall African-American man then muttered,

"Damn lurkers sneakin' around out here...We'd better get inside."

Clementine, still holding her arm, joined them. But as she walked by Luke, she noticed his shameful expression from the corner of her eye.

"You hungry?" He asked. Clementine stopped, not meeting his gaze. After a tense pause, she continued, leaving Luke, who unfolded his arms and followed from behind.


End file.
